"UNNIE! TWENTY FIVE!"
"TWENTY FIVE!"
"TWENTY FIVE!"
"IT'S TWENTY-FIVE!"
I smiled at their immaturity and innocence. No matter how you looked at it, these girls were barely over eighteen. They were as they should be, laughing without a care in the world. But in reality, as Reapers, every night in this place was a struggle.
'Well, let's see how it goes.' I muttered.
Right now, the biggest problem with the Production Saints was their long cool-down times for blessings. If I could somehow get it to synergize with {Rewind} or {Eat}, I could get all my bullets blessed faster.
A few seconds later, Phillip entered the room and saw Golden Wick hopping like rabbits.
"Ms. Yvonne, what in the world are you and your guild doing? I have complaints from the racket outside."
"Ah. Sorry, Mr. Scrivener. We will leave now. Let's go, girls. Esteemed patron, I will reach out to you again tomorrow, farewell."
"Patron! Thank you!"
